


Birthday Collection

by Dragons4ever



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-05 02:47:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5358113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragons4ever/pseuds/Dragons4ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place for all the fics I have written as birthday gifts. Any that were previously in the 'Sing Us A Song Piano Man' collection will eventually be moved here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written as a birthday present for the lovely Eisschirchmen, based on her gorgeous Waldgeist AU. If you don’t know what it is, you can go to her tumblr blog and click the link for everything in the tag. Or go and ask her, she’s very proud of this AU, as she should be, and likes to talk about it!  
> Enjoy!  
> Some mild NSFW themes, T/M borderline.

It is his touch that makes her fall in love with him, although it is not her he is touching when it happens.

She is on her way to meet him in their glade, but she stops short when she spots him, crouching by a sapling. Silently, she steps closer so she may see and hear him better.

Soul cups the sapling’s leaves tenderly in his hands, and whispers the words of spirits—words he has heard her say hundreds of times over in a tongue he does not understand. His pronunciation is a little off, but his soft touch more than makes up for it, she knows.

And in a sudden moment of clarity, when he smiles softly at the sapling as their leaves uncurl before him, she realizes that she loves him. And it renders her dumbstruck for a long moment.

To some degree, she is used to the forest—and her by extension—being treated with reverence and respect. But she knows moral people do that out of a mix of fear and necessity. They fear the forest so they treat it with care, in the hopes it will let them pass through unscathed. They honour her, and other spirits, so that she will bless their crops and allow a bountiful harvest, as if she could control such a thing.

However, Soul is not like that. His tenderness comes from true admiration and love. And in that same moment of clarity, she knows he loves her too, though _he_ may not know it yet.

She rustles the grass with her feet to let him know she is there (he threatens to put a bell on her when he jumps), and she beams at him, laughing.

Yes, she loves him, but she will wait, and let him figure his feelings out for himself.

* * *

When he recognizes his feelings, she is waiting for him. She reads him easily, she can hear his soul after all, and calms him by telling him she wants to dance. The normality makes him smile, and her in return.

The brush of his hand against her arm as they move through the trees, laughing and twirling, sends a thrill down her spine and through her limbs. Her soul hums contentedly as her Soul does.

They get caught in a downpour she had anticipated, and they take shelter under a large, old oak, panting after their dance. She feels his gaze on her and meets his eyes without any hesitation.

Her heartbeat quickens when he steps closer and reaches for her face. His fingers tickle a little as he brushes her wet bangs from her forehead, and then trails his fingers lightly down her cheek, touch feather light. She is struck by the way his wet hair is plastered to his face.

She leans into his touch, nuzzling his hand—his callouses feel nice on her skin—and keeps her gaze trained on his. When his breath hitches, she hears, and she revels in his widening pupils.

“Maka,” he breathes, and he need not say anything else.

With a hand on his shoulder, she rises onto her toes and presses her lips to his for a moment. He quickly returns the gesture.

They wait out the rain by sharing kisses and embracing. His fingers dig into her hips when she tastes his tongue and the heat of his breath, but it does not hurt. It _excites_ her but she does nothing more than kiss him.

When the pattering of the rain on the leaves stops, the tension between them is taunt, but he reluctantly goes back to his village, for he has duties he must attend to.

She sends him with a kiss and promise to wait for him.

* * *

Within a moon, the tension between them snaps, though the resulting act of physical love is by no means as savage or feral as the love making of the beasts.

His hands shake as he skims her skin, spread out on the furs he had gifted her over the years in the cave she hibernates in. The fire they had eaten before is dying, and it casts shadows across his angular face. Her man is extremely handsome, especially when he cries out her name, unravels, and spills himself inside her.

As they doze, bodies sweaty and spent, he traces the tattoos on her back as she lies on her stomach. His touch is soft and she lets the shivers travel down her spine. She watches the passion reignite in his eyes as he strokes her body and she encourages him with hungry touches.

In the aftermath of their second union, as he pulls her against his damp chest, he whispers to her.

“Forever,” he promises. “I will love you forever.”

“You can’t take back things you say to the forest,” she warns. “We will be bound together for all of our lives, and the next ones, if you mean it.”

“I do,” he says, and he kisses her.

While he sleeps, head pillowed on her bosom and arms around her waist, she tries to think of his new title in his language. While ‘husband’ is accurate, it does not fully convey the true meaning of their bond in the eyes of the forest and spirits. Their souls are bound, she can feel it in the dull throb her soul makes, not unlike the one his induces in her heart and loins.

Now, she will wish for no touch other than his, no man other than him, no home other than where he is. His white locks are soft in her hands as she strokes his head before falling into dreams with him.

When he awakens with the morning light, bleary eyed and content, she calls him ‘soulmate’ in a murmur against his lips. It is something she spent a long time thinking of, having awoken with the forest long before dawn, and he beams widely, kissing her soundly. He whispers the word back to her like it were the name of the Higher One.

She delights as much in his happiness with his new name, as she does with his next round of love making. She will never tire of his touch.


	2. The Only One for Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written as a birthday present for the wonderful S-Puff, and also as a fic I meant to write ages ago to celebrate 100 followers for my tumblr, based on a prompt Lueurdelaube gave me, which was arranged marriage AU with a magical undertone.  
> Enjoy!

Maka jolted awake as her mother shook her. She glanced at her, and her mother’s expression was a mix between apologetic and resigned frustration.

“We’re almost there,” the Lady Kamilla Albarn said by way of explanation.

Maka nodded and blinked the sleep sand out of her eyes as she adjusted her position so she was no longer leaning against the padding in the side of the carriage and was instead sitting up straight. She glanced out of the carriage window to look at the rolling fields below the late afternoon sky.

She was brought back to herself by her mother leaning forward and tucking a few loose strands of her ash-blonde hair back into her ornately done bun. The dress she wore—a beautiful red bought for the occasion—too was not left alone as Kami tugged and straightened it. When her mother was satisfied, the older woman leaned back in her seat and stared out of the window, ignoring the man seated beside her.

“You look lovely darling,” the Lord Spirit Albarn said after a moment of silence.

Maka followed her mother’s example and ignored her father. If it were not for him and his _habits_ , she would not have to be in this position. Practically selling herself off to marry a man she did not know just so she could have some sort of financial security from her father’s rather _considerable_ collection of debts. Well, no, that was not _quite_ true. While her father’s debts had severely restricted her choice on the matter, she might have ended up marrying her potential fiancé anyway, given the powers she possessed and the problems he had. Still, it would have been nice to know she was entering an engagement out of her own will and desire instead of out of necessity.

“There it is,” her mother said suddenly, starting her out of her thoughts.

Maka leaned forward so she could see out of the window in the direction they were travelling, which was to her back. Indeed, they were approaching a grand house, bigger even than the one her father owned in the country. Her momentary excitement at seeing the place for the first time was soon gone when she noticed a few people standing on the front balcony and she pulled her head back into the carriage.

As they neared the house, and finally stopped, Maka felt like her heart might leap out of her chest. With so much of her father’s money gone, and still to go into paying his debts, a substantial amount of her future happiness depended on her securing this engagement. Her mother gave her a look and her heart beat faster. She did not want to disappoint her mother.

Spirit left the carriage first, soon followed by his wife, and then by Maka. With on hand to hold her skirts, and the other holding the stone bannister, she followed her parents up the stairs to meet the family of her future husband.

Lord and Lady Evans were as elegant as London gossip said, as was their eldest son Wesley, and his wife Elizabeth. The youngest son, the one Maka was to be wedded to if all was agreed, was indeed elegant, but his blank and indifferent expression made him look far more severe than his welcoming brother or father.

And this was not the only difference between Soul Evans and the rest of his family. While his mother and brother were fair blonde, and his father had dark hair, _his_ hair was so fair it looked white, or perhaps silver. His eyes too, looked red, not the brown or blue of his relations. Still, she met his gaze unflinchingly when they were introduced, before curtseying to match his bow.

However, despite the indifference in his expression, he was not ungentlemanly. When their parents entered the house, followed by his brother and his wife, Soul extended his arm to her, which she took, though it felt stiff under her hand.

She could feel the discomfort rolling off his spirit to accompany it.

Supper was early, since the journey had left Maka and her parents tired. It was an awkward affair, as all by the youngest Mr Evans tried to make polite conversation and the Albarns’ exhaustion did not make for entirely stimulating talk.

Once Lady Evans and Elizabeth had shown them to their rooms, Maka undressed and fell straight to sleep, though her dreams were filled with anxiety and a piano melody she could not recall once she awoke.

The net morning at least, Maka was far more awake and lively, eager to make conversation with Elizabeth and Wesley.

“Would you mind taking a tour of the garden with me, Miss Albarn?” Elizabeth asked once breakfast had been cleared away. “The flowers are in bloom and it’s very beautiful to see.

Although a little surprise, Maka said, “Of course.”

Wesley and, after a signification look from his brother, Soul joined them too.

Arm in arm, Elizabeth, or Liz, as she insisted on being called once they had left the house (to which Maka insisted on being called by her first name too), guided her around the vast gardens. The gentlemen fell a little behind and after glancing back at them for a moment, Liz leaned in close to her and spoke in a low voice.

“Don’t pay my brother much mind, Maka, he’s just a big grump, and very shy around new people. For the first month of our acquaintance, I was sure he despised me.” She smiled and continued, “He just need to get used to you.”

Her smile became mischievous.

“Wesley, my dear,” she called back to the gentlemen. “Come walk with me?”

The man in question mirrored her smile and quickened his pace to catch up to her. Taking his wife’s hand, he pulled her forward, leaving Maka on her own with Soul trailing behind her.

Maka blinked after the couple, surprised they would leave her with her potential fiancé, virtually unchaperoned, with their backs to them and steadily moving out of earshot. She turned back to Soul to find him having stopped.

She was just about to ask him to walk with her when he spoke first.

“The grounds are better when viewed alone, so, I’ll leave you now, Miss Albarn,” he said, and bowed stiffly. She barely had time to curtsey before he had turned on his heel and walked away after murmuring a last “good day”.

She would have been insulted if she did not have the power to see spirits, and she felt how anxious and _scared_ he was at the prospect of being alone with her. In his defence, she had been rather anxious at being left with him too. She was not the only one with a lot riding on their connection. His very sanity was at stake.

* * *

The official reason for their visit was the annual ball the Evans family held for the top of English society, and it was as wonderful as all had claimed. All the ladies present were dressed in their finest, and all the gentlemen looked extremely handsome. Especially, in Maka’s opinion, Mr Soul Evans.

His dark jacket highlighted his broad shoulders and tall person, contrasting with the bright colour of his hair. She was conscious of the looks they both received when they danced the first two sets together, but he disappeared shortly after and she did not see him for the majority of the evening.

For the most part though, she was diverted by the introduction of Liz’s sister, Patricia Thompson, and her guardian, Lord Mortimer Death the Second. Lord Death was an interesting young man to talk to, and Patricia was sharp and amusing with her comments on the various people present for the ball. However, every so often her thoughts drifted to her absent fiancé—for the arrangement had been settled and the wedding was set for January—and she occasionally searched for his spirit, to check up on him.

All the times she looked, he was alone, and his soul often fluctuated between indifference and distress. She yearned to know what it was that affected him, for if she was to help keep his sanity in check with her purifying soul, should she not know his triggers?

Eventually, she gave in to her curiosity and slipped away, following the pull of his spirit until she found him on a balcony on the other side of the house, leaning his elbows on the stone balustrade and cradling his head in his hands. His bright hair looked wild, like he had been running his hands thought it in agitation. His spirit was buzzing, and she hesitated for a moment before knocking on the balcony door.

He jumped and whipped round, looking almost ready to yell at her, but upon recognition, he forced his face into composure, and bowed.

“Miss Albarn. You startled me,” he said with a faint sigh. “The party is on the other side of the house, if you would like me to escort you back—”

“Thank you for the offer Mr Evans, but I am perfectly content here,” she interrupted hurriedly, before he could go on. She took a deep breath of the warm summer air and said, “May I ask what brings you out here, so far away from company?” She walked a little closer to him, keeping her hands clasped in front of her and ignoring the nagging voice in the back of her mind that warned of impropriety.

They were engaged after all, there would be very few consequences if they were caught alone together.

He turned so he was looking out from the balcony and leaned against the balustrade again. “I needed a little air. Sometimes the commotion of a ball makes—” he gestured with his hand, waving it towards his head, mouth moving silently. He took a deep breath and let his hand drop. “I just needed a little break. I thank you, but you did not need to check on me.” His voice grew quiet and tired as he spoke, as though he had reached the point of exhaustion where he was now simply resigned to his fate.

“Perhaps I wished to talk to you, so I could get to know you better. “She smiled a little when he glanced at her in surprise. “I’d rather not marry a complete stranger.”

A small, sad—or perhaps bitter—smile graced his face. “I did not think you would agree to the match.”

“I confess, I did not have much of a choice but—”

“You _always_ have a choice.”

The intensity in his voice surprised her, as did the stern look in his eyes.

“Do not—throw yourself away simply because you feel that you must. You are too good to deserve such a fate.” He lost the intensity in his gaze and seemed to slump in on himself some more. “I may not offer much as a partner, but I promise, I will always give you the chance to choose, even if it is to take me as a partner in the first place, no matter what happens.”

She smiled a little again, feeling sad for him, and said, “But do _you_ have a choice, Sir?”

He scoffed and shook his head. His lips moved as he said something under his breath that she could not hear, but she was sure it was something along the lines of “ridiculous woman”.

“Mr Evans—”

“Soul.”

She blinked, words caught in her throat in surprise.

His eyes met hers from under his wild hair. “Please, call me Soul, at least when we are alone.”

The smile on her face was warm now, as she felt her heart flutter for the earnest look on his face. “Then please call me Maka.”

He nodded and swallowed. “Maka.”

“May I stay with you for a little while?”

His lips tipped up in a dry smile, making a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a huff. “If you wish.”

They stood in silence for several long moment before Soul moved, standing up straight and turning to her.

“You said you wanted to get to know me better, yes?”

She nodded and agreed.

He took a deep breath and said, “Then I suppose you should hear my music. That will show you what kind of man I am.”

Then he turned and walked back into the house. Maka followed shortly after him, moving quickly to catch up. They walked down the corridor until they got to a room with a piano forte in it, at which Soul sat.

He opened the cover and placed his fingers on the keys, the paused, retracted his fingers, and turned to look at her.

“If you wish to leave at any point, then do so. I will not be offended. My music is not the most pleasant thing to hear.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I doubt you can frighten me off.”

He grinned, thought it did not reach his eyes. His fingers settled on the keys once again, and then he began to play.

His song was a roiling, intense thing, swelling and growing until it became a cacophony. But, there was beauty in it as well as discord, a great, dangerous beauty, like that of a stormy sea. She felt his spirit swell with the music, pulsing and dancing to the dark melody. It went on for what felt like forever, until it finally slowed and quieted, ending on high notes that hung in the air and echoed in her soul long after they had died.

Soul turned to her, and she grinned at him, clapping.

“That was wonderful,” she said, and he scoffed but could not hide his smile. “I confess to not being musically inclined, but I know beauty when I hear it. Thank you for letting me listen.”

He seemed to bit his lip before saying, “So you still wish to marry me, after hearing all that darkness?”

She approached him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Your music was indeed very dark, but there was light in it. And there is light in you too, I can see it. I can feel it. So yes, I will still marry you.”

“Then—” he said, taking her hand “—I hope we can be friends, good friends, by the time we are married.”

“As do I,” she said. Deep in her soul, there was also the hope that might grow to love him by then too.

* * *

Maka sighed gratefully as she entered her London home, pulling off her gloves and handing them to a butler, who also took her coat from her. She adored her brother and sister in law, and she loved visiting them, but sometimes Liz’s teasing got a little too much and she felt the desire to retreat into a book. She glanced at the butler to ask him where her husband was, but he beat her to it.

“The Master is in the music room, Ma’am, though he asked not to be disturbed.”

Maka nodded and thanked him, before taking off up the stairs.

After two months of marriage to Soul, she had learned nearly all of the hidden meanings in his words, and that, for the most part, she was an exception to all the rules he had.

Down a corridor, she could hear the sounds of the piano forte her husband was working. She walked carefully, so her footsteps were quieted. The door to the music room was open a crack, allowing the music to leak out and granting her a view of her husband playing.

Unlike the first piece he had played her, the day their engagement was finalised by their fathers and the day before it was announced, this tune was light and, dare she say it, _romantic_ , though still incredibly intense. It made her heart swell when she peeked at his spirit and saw how happy the piece made him.

After a few moments more, she decided to let her husband know of her presence by opening the door all the way and exclaiming, “What is it you do so secretly Mr Evans?”

She took delight in his startled and flushed face, laughing a little when he scowled.

“You’re a cruel woman, Mrs Evans, startling me like that,” he growled, but his scowl gave way to a smile.

She shrugged a little and walked closer to him. “I must find my entertainment somewhere, and what better amusement is there than scaring the wits out of one’s husband?”

Her amusement grew as she approached and Soul hurriedly rearranged the sheets on the instrument, so that the ones he was reading from were hidden. She met his eyes and smiled teasingly, which made his cheeks flush again.

“So, how is my brother?” he asked, clearly to try and change the subject, but she let him.

“He is well, although Liz has been a little ill for the past few days.”

“Oh, I hope it is nothing too serious,” Soul murmured.

“Well, I suppose that depends on how serious one thinks children are.” Maka laughed at Soul’s shocked face. “But do not let Wes know, Liz had not told him yet and, in truth, we are both only guessing, it might turn out to be nothing.”

“I wish them the best all the same,” Soul said with a nod.

She hummed and placed a hand on top of the piano, noting how her husband tensed. She glanced at the sheets of music, but decided not to pry. He had promised no secrets on their wedding night (and that he would wait until she was comfortable with consummating their marriage before he touched her in any way), so this was likely a surprise rather than secret. And so she took pity on him, retracting her hand and watching him relax.

“I’ll go arrange for dinner,” she said. After a moment of thought, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to her husband’s head, the first kiss since the one to seal their vows, before turning to leave.

While she had desired to become friends with her partner, and perhaps even grow to love him, she had not anticipated falling as much in love with him as she had. Though he did not give himself credit for it, Soul was incredibly kind and intelligent, and she had found herself quite in love with him soon after their wedding. Now, she could only hop her charms would bring him to love her as well, so that they might have a full and happy marriage.

As the door shut behind her, she was unaware of her husband’s longing gaze after her as his heart beat frantically in his chest. Lord, he hoped she liked the song he was writing, it was written in love for her after all.


	3. Summer Lovin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a birthday fic for the wonderful mystery-shrouded, though a little belated. Prompt was a mix of shy kiss and ‘I met you at a really crappy summer job but now it’s kinda fun’ AU.  
> Enjoy!

Soul did not like his summer job. Sure, the pay was decent and his co-workers were surprisingly cool people, but that barely made up for the shit he had to deal with most days.

Mainly screaming children, their screaming parents, and a horrific amount of vomit.

Oh the joys of being a ride attendant at a zoo/theme park hybrid.

He would have much preferred working at the quirky, independent music store that he often frequented. If only they had been hiring at the beginning of summer. He was pretty sure he would now hear the music that accompanied his ride in his nightmares for the rest of his life.

There was, however, one major perk to the job that could not be overlooked. One he would not have gotten had he been working at the music store.

As he did a final check before locking the ride down and heading over to the office building to sign off, he hummed a little tune to himself, something he had been working on in an attempt to get the damn ride theme out of his head.

“Oh, hey Soul!” a cheerful little voice chirped as he got closer the building. A short blonde girl approached him, waving and smiling. “How’s your day been?”

Soul smiled and shrugged, trying to contain his smile before it got too wide. “Eh, not too bad today, didn’t get yelled at by any parents because their kid was too short to ride. I think I’m approaching a new record for peaceful days. How was yours?”

As Maka Albarn, would-be vet and zoo keeper, rattled off happily about her day working with the rhinos, Soul let himself admire (and envy) her enthusiasm and genuine love for her job. If he could find something to love half as much as she loved the animals, he would be happy.

As had become their routine, they walked to the employee car park after clocking out, talking and teasing and laughing. He might not have known her for long but Maka was definitely one of his best friends. Outside of work they texted, and had even hung out a couple of times, though mostly with other people they worked with. He had figured out quickly that she was someone he could trust, someone reliable, someone very much dedicated to making other people happy

Which was probably why he had developed a crush on her very, very quickly. But this also made her very, very much out of his league.

But he would satisfy himself with her friendship, because even that was more than he probably deserved from such a nice person like her, no matter what she might have said if she knew what he was thinking.

As they approached their respective vehicles (her small car and his motorbike), Maka slowed to a stop and furrowed her brows in thought.

He stopped beside her, hands shoved deep in his pockets, watching and waiting for her to speak her mind.

“Do you,” she began, before stopping herself. After giving herself what appeared to be a little shake, she raised her chin so she could look him in the eye. “Do you want to hang out this Friday?”

“Uhhh,” he said, shifting his eyes away to the tarmac for a moment before looking back at her intense green gaze. His heart thumped in his chest. “Do mean with the others?”

Her lips pursed a little. “I was hoping that it could just be the two of us.” Her cheeks became stained with pink. “If you’d like to.”

His stomach flopped, as did pretty much of all of his internal organs. “Y-yeah, that sounds cool.” He berated himself for stammering for a moment, but stopped when Maka smiled widely. He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully and grinned a little. He was so gone on her.

“Cool,” she said and they both laughed a little. Soul felt his face flame when their eyes met.

They stood in semi-awkward silence for a few moments before Maka took a step towards her car.

“Soooo,” she said, dragging the word out. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He nodded, probably too way too eagerly to be cool. “Yep. Yeah.”

She giggled a little and they both went towards their separate rides. Before she got in her car though, and just as he was swinging his leg over his bike, she stopped.

“Wait.”

He stopped as well, butt hovering over his seat, eyes fixed on her as she walked over to him. She came to stand right in front of him, so that he had to tilt his head back to meet her gaze.

Her cheeks were bright red, and it was very cute on her. She fidgeted a little, before huffing and leaning down to quickly peck his lips. When she pulled back she was completely red.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “So there’s no confusion for Friday.”

Soul was silent for a moment, before blurting, “Awesome.” She giggled and he flushed probably as red as her, feeling as about as cool as a snail.

However, this seemed to be the sort of reaction she wanted, because she kissed him again. And that was how they came to make out over his bike, at least until the night guard caught them and shooed them off with a secretive smile.


	4. Damnit Black Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s khaleesimaka‘s belated birthday gift, featuring dork lord Soul. Also dedicated to others whose birthdays have recently passed. Slight NSFW warning.  
> Enjoy!

Soul shifted his weight from one foot to the other, both desperately wanting to knock the door he was standing in front of and desperately wanting to just go back to his apartment and sulk about what shitty friends he had. And stare the wreckage that had once been his TV.

Fucking Blake. And on the night of the season finale of his favourite show!

Before he had a chance to finally decide to go home and scour the internet again for a working livestream link, he caught sight of blonde coming down the hallway. He turned his head slightly and eye contact was made. It was too late to escape.

“Oh!” his neighbour Maka—his very cute, very short, very friendly neighbour Maka—said when she saw him, arms laden with groceries. “Hi Soul! What brings you to my door?”

“Uhhh.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Hi. I was just—uh, I mean—well, I—.” Actually, he was going to shut up now.

Maka smiled, amused and a little sympathetic. “Would you like to come in?”

“If that’s alright with you,” Soul said, face burning slightly.

Maka grinned. “I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t.”

After stepping back so she could get to the door, she let them both in. Her apartment was cosily decorated, a stark contrast his own sparse living arrangement, and it smelled like flowers.

“So,” Maka said as she set her grocery bags on her kitchen counter. “What can I do for you today?”

Soul opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, wondering, for the nth time that evening, how he could ask his neighbour if he could use her TV to watch his favourite show because his friend had gotten over-excited about a football game and trashed his. Even if it was a neighbour he spoke to on a regular enough basis to call her a friend and maybe, sort of have a crush on her.

In the end he went with his usual blunt approach.

“I was wondering if I could borrow your TV,” he said.

Maka turned to look at him from where she had been putting her food away and raised an eyebrow. “But don’t you have that massive flat-screen? The one I had to help you bring in when you moved here?”

He laughed a little, maybe hysterically at the memory of their first encounter, but that was neither here nor there. “Yeah, uh, it’s, um, not functional anymore.”

Her expression said she wanted to know more, but she thankfully did not ask.

“Well, I was planning on watching the finale of _Restless_ , but—”

“That is exactly what I was wanting to watch,” Soul blurted. Face burning, he added, “So, if you wouldn’t mind, we could just sit together and watch it? I’ll leave as soon as it finishes and won’t be a bother.”

Maka bit back a smile and made an exaggerated thinking face. “I think that’d be OK,” she said, letting a teasing smile spread across her face. “It’d be nice to have some company for the evening.”

He grinned. “Cool."

* * *

He was so not cool. He was the opposite of cool. He was so far from cool he was in a whole other plane of existence to the meaning of cool.

But he could not help it! _Restless_ , a slightly cliché but still super awesome supernatural/post-apocalyptic show that had everything he could ever want in a series! Cool fight scenes, subtle and organic romance, awesome lore, and a surprising amount of hidden content for fans to scream about online.

He just really wanted to fanboy about how good the finale was getting, OK, so sue him.

But then there was Maka, sitting beside him, watching in silence, a person whose good graces he had worked hard to get in and would like to stay in. So he did his best not to vibrate in excitement when things he wanted to happen actually finally happened.

Unfortunately, he was not as subtle in his fanboying as he had hoped.

“Enjoying yourself?” Maka stage-whispered during an ad break, smirking a little when he turned to look at her.

He smiled sheepishly and felt himself flush. After a few moments of silence he said, “You gotta admit, it’s a good show.”

She only hummed and took a sip of her soft drink.

During the next ad break, a third of a way through the hour and a half long special, she leaned over and asked if he wanted a snack. When she went to go retrieve whatever snackage she had stored in her cupboards, he did his best not to stare at her ass.

It did not work well.

When Maka returned, she sat closer to him than before, almost entirely pressed up against him. His palms became sweaty and, to his shame, he started losing track of what was going on on the TV. She really was incredibly warm against him.

He debated pulling the ‘yawn to put your arm behind the girl’ move, but the second-hand embarrassment at such a cliché move stopped him. At least until she laid her head against his shoulder. Then there was nothing stopping him from throwing his arm over the back of the couch and letting her scooch even closer so she was smooshed against him.

As the finale reached its climax and Maka remained against his side, Soul thought he was handling it pretty well. A babe cuddling up to him and the ending of his favourite show, and yet he was still acting cool.

Or at least he was, before Maka’s hand found his knee. There went his mind to the gutter and his blood down south.

Once the show was over, he was stuck with two alternatives: stop whatever was happening right there and go home to recalibrate, or to continue and go with the flow.

He was leaning towards going with the flow.

Maka rolled her head back so she could meet his eyes and said, “If you want, you can stay and watch a movie with me. I rented a horror movie, if you’re into that kind of thing.”

He hummed and tried not to focus on her mouth, stomach flipping and flopping. “If that’s cool with you, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Again, I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t alright.”

While Maka set up the movie, Soul shifted himself on the couch to get more comfortable. Soon she was back against his side and movie was playing, though he was not really paying attention—it was something he had already seen anyway. Something to do with poltergeists or whatever.

As the film progressed, his arm migrated from the back of the couch to around Maka’s shoulders, though that was after her hand moved from his knee to his thigh, and her foot brushed against his more than enough times to be accidental.

Eventually he could not keep himself limbo. “Maka,” he murmured. She looked up at him with wide green eyes and he was struck by how beautiful she was. “What are we doing?”

She licked her lips and swallowed. “You’re really cute when you’re trying not to act like a fanboy,” she said finally

“Whu—” he tried, but was interrupted by her kissing him.

It was a surprise, but he would have been lying if he said he did not respond quickly, cupping her cheek and pressing back against her. Her tongue brushed against his lips in short order and he parted his lips for her, moving the arm around her shoulders to wrap around her waist and clutch her tightly. Her fingers threaded through his hair and tugged lightly, pulling him and falling back until she was pressed into the couch cushions with him hovering over her.

They parted for a moment, Maka pushing him back to resituate her body into a more comfortable position before pulling him back into her embrace, locking lips again.

Somehow his hands found their way to her thighs—which were draped over his hips—and moved up to her hips and waist, and then rib cage. He stopped short of second-base, unsure as to how far she wanted to go, all she had done so far was kiss him.

With a sigh she broke their kiss and breathed against his mouth, “Soul.”

He hummed and nuzzled against her neck, kissing the skin there lightly.

She giggled a little and put her right hand over his left, moving it so over her breast. “You can…if you want,” she said softly, linking her legs fully around his hips.

He loosed a small groan against her throat and squeezed her tit. Her gasp and hum short-circuited his brain completely.

* * *

“Dude, I told you I’d get you a new TV by the afternoon didn’t I?” Blake said, looking slightly smug as he and Soul watched two guys carry a new flat-screen into his apartment. “Trust your god.”

“I swear to god, if this is linked to any sort of crime, I am going to kill you,” Soul said once the two guys had left.

Blake laughed and slapped him on the back, hard. “Have a little faith brochacho. The guy I know is completely respectable and honest. He just owed me a favour.”

And with that, he made his way to the door. At the doorway though, he stopped. “Nice hickey by the way,” he snickered, before darting out.

Soul just sighed. Maka had not told him about that when he left her place that morning, or, well, afternoon. Though she had been good enough to tell him he had put his shirt on inside out. And give him her phone number. And her working hours so he could drop by whenever. And when to pick her that evening for an actual date.

OK, so revising what he had thought the night before, maybe his friend was not so shitty.


	5. Angel of Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was for makascythemeister‘s birthday! She requested a mix of various coffee shop AU prompts, so here it is! Can you guys guess which ones were used?

Maka was a train wreck and nothing could save her.

As a pre-med student on a scholarship to her home city’s university, while her study life might have been hard, her home life should have been slightly easier.

That is, of course, if her mother had still been living in Death City and if her father was not a complete asshat. Sadly, both were truths, and Maka faced with two alternatives; stay at home with her lecher of a father and rely on him, or move into dorms, refuse his money, and get on with her life.

She chose the latter.

And, _oh_ , how she regretted it, at least in the dark hours of the night when she worked on her notes and homework after coming home from either her part time job or her volunteering place. She was sleep-deprived, annoyed, over-worked, and she was sure that at some point during the school year she was going to kill the person living under her for blaring music at half four in the morning and disturbing the _only_ time she had for sleep.

But there was one shining light in her life, her heavenly angel, her saving grace.

The unfairly attractive barista at the closest Death Bucks to the student dorms.

His name-tag read ‘ _Soul_ ’ and he had the cutest, dorkiest smile she had ever seen. He also had white hair, red eyes, and sharp teeth, but after having grown up in Death City, he was not the strangest person she had ever seen.

At first he had just been a barista at her nearest Starbucks rip off. But then one day, on the side of her coffee cup, underneath her name, was a little pun.

When she asked him about it, he had blushed a little, shrugged, and said, “You look like you had a rough night, and I wanted to see if I could cheer you up.”

It had made her grin widely at him, and seriously improved her day. Now his little puns, one-liners, and so-terrible-it’s-funny pick-up lines were a staple of her day, a little thing to help her brighten up before heading to class.

In addition to his snarky notes, Soul also started talking to her for real as her coffee was being made, cracking jokes and asking her little things about her life. In return she would ask him little bits—how long had he been a barista, was he from Death City, where had he been before here?—before hurrying off to class as other customers came in.

One day in late November, as Soul was making her drink, he blurted, “Do you actually like black coffee, or are you doing it as a show of dominance?”

She squinted at him. “Why would you think that?”

He puffed his cheeks out as he pinked and said, “Well, you always grimace when you drink it, and you’re a small person. I just thought maybe you drank black coffee to show how tough you are even if you don’t like it.”

She burst out laughing. “Oh, I don’t need to seem tough, I’m a black-belt in four martial arts.”

Soul looked at her with what looked like new found respect.

“As for the grimacing,” she continued, turning slightly sheepish. “That’s mostly because this is my third cup of coffee in the morning, and by this point I’m just a little sick of it. I don’t mind the taste of just one cup, but three starts to wear on my taste-buds.”

His respect morphed into shock, bordering on horror. “ _Why_ do you need three cups of black coffee?”

She just smiled even more sheepishly and said, “Really busy schedule?”

He sighed and shook his head. “You’re insane.”

She bristled a little. “I’m a pre-med!”

“ _Insane_.”

She felt herself pink, and she huffed, pouting as she crossing her arms. “Yeah? Well, I’d like to see you juggle a competitive course with part time work and volunteering! See how much sleep you get then!”

He smiled a little and put his hands up in surrender. “OK, OK, I’m sorry. But, as a pre-med, surely you know that a caffeine dependency isn’t healthy?”

She turned away from him, embarrassed, and mumbled, “Yeah, I know.”

He snickered a little and after a long few moments, handed her her cup. “Well, at least you’re not addicted to redbull.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “At least it’s not that.” Then she said her goodbye with a wave and walked out, glad to move away from that embarrassing conversation.

It was only once she had left the café did she read his daily message. But this time it was not a funny/terrible pun.

_Study break? 8pm @ Death Bucks, tonight?_

Underneath the message was also a phone number and a little smiley face. She flushed bright red, but could not help the large smile on her face. He really was a dork.

She texted him quickly to say that she would so her best to make it, and to ask whether they would meet inside or outside.

He said inside, and she spent the rest of the day trying not to daydream about whether or not this was a date. She was too scared to ask.

* * *

That evening found her slipping into Death Bucks in one of her nicer shirt and skirt sets, slightly before eight. The place was a little more crowded than it was in the mornings, with focus centred on a slightly raised stage that was home to a grand piano being played by… _Soul?_

She blinked and stared at him from the doorway, surprised, though delighted. He had never really mentioned music aside from when he had told her that her taste in electronic was terrible and that she needed urgent re-education.

The piece he was playing was low and rolling, slightly chaotic but incredibly beautiful. It held her fixed in place as she watched him play. The expression on his face was so beautiful, he looked so concentrated, submerged in the sound he was creating.

When the piece ended, she joined in with the clapping enthusiastically, and she beamed as wide as she could as Soul scanned the small audience and met her eyes. He seemed to pink for a moment, lips forming a smile unbidden before he looked down at the piano keys.

A dark skinned man with cornrows hopped onto the stage to stand next to the piano and, after plucking the mic from the stand a couple of steps from the instrument, he said, “OK, that’s the end of the music for tonight, let’s get on with the open mic night. Thank you Soul for playing for us—” the crowd clapped again as Soul rose from his piano stool and left the stage “—be sure to leave some tips in the jar on the counter for our resident pianist, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

The man continued to talk but Maka tuned him out as she caught Soul’s eye as he headed to a corner table. She followed him and slid into a seat next to his.

“You never said you could play the piano,” she said quietly as the man on stage introduced the first speaker to the stage.

Soul smiled, a little bashfully, and said, “Well, you never asked." Then he leaned in and said, “By the way, it’s poetry night tonight. You said you like reading, so I thought, maybe, you’d like this?”

She grinned and felt herself blush. She turned her attention to the first speaker, a skinny person of indeterminate gender with purple hair, and whispered to Soul, “I think I will.”

And she did.

The first speaker’s poem was very sad, and she saw many people wipe away a tear (herself included). The second speaker, a man with two spikes of hair above his ears (a guy she recognised from one of her classes) read a rather poorly constructed love poem. The third speaker was girl with silvery, long hair, who recited a poem about frogs. Several more speakers came and went, but towards the end of the evening, Maka found herself paying less attention to the poetry, and more attention to the man beside her.

Soul had brought out a notebook and started writing something in it as soon as the first speaker had started, and when she glanced over, she noticed that he was noting down music. She wanted to ask him what he was doing, but the way he huddled over it told her he wanted to keep his work a secret, and she respected it.

Even if her curiosity was eating away at her.

The open mic finished at ten, and by this point Maka was not only completely distracted by her date (was it a date? She still was not sure) but was also constantly fighting to hide her yawns.

Soul saw her and smiled, almost affectionately. As the crowd began to disperse after the dark-skinned man, who Soul had named as Kilik, wrapped up the evening, Soul leaned over and said, “I’ll walk you back to your dorm. You look like you’re going to fall asleep on your feet.”

She snorted, but was happy enough to let him walk with her. If they had been holding hands, it might have almost been romantic to walk under the waning moonlight. But alas, they kept their hands to themselves, and soon enough Maka was at her dorm.

“Thank you for tonight,” she said sincerely. “It was fun.”

Soul grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah? Glad you enjoyed it. We have an open mic night every week, so if you want to turn it into a regular thing, feel free.”

She giggled. “Maybe I’ll even perform.”

“Oh?” he asked teasingly. “You write poetry?”

She flushed. “Sometimes…”

He laughed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “As long as it isn’t as gloomy as Crona or whatever’s was, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

She smiled shyly but did not say anything.

Silence fell between them and they both started shuffling their feet.

“Well, uh…,” Maka said, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Uh, yeah. I should, uh, let you get to bed and sleep and stuff,” he said awkwardly. Then he scowled at her. “Don’t stay up studying or anything. Overworking yourself is just as bad as not doing any work at all.”

She snorted but nodded. “Alright then, _dad_.”

He blew a raspberry at her and they both laughed.

“Hey,” he said softly and suddenly, just as she was about to walk away. “We should, y’know, hang out some more. Some time. Whenever you’re free and all, because I know you’re really busy and I—”

He was too cute for his own good and she was thoroughly smitten, so she interrupted his rambling by taking an impulsive step forward, rising on her tip toes, and pressing a small kiss to his cheek.

“Yeah,” she breathed as she pulled away. “I’d like that.”

Soul started grinning like a fool and blushed bright read. “Cool.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said as she turned and entered her dorm building.

“Yep, see you tomorrow!” he whisper-called after her.

From the window in the stairwell, she watched him walk off, fist pumping the air as he did. She giggled quietly and practically dive bombed into her bed when she got to her room.

For once she did not study, but she did dream of him.


	6. Just Froggy Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is howlingmoonrise‘s very belated birthday present, and my first attempt at writing freeuka. There are mentions of BDSM, but nothing nsfw. Enjoy!

Free always considered himself a non-judgmental person. He did not particularly care what others were doing as long as they did not interfere with his daily life.

This was, regrettably, what caused him to beat up the old woman he was stealing from. She interfered with his daily life as a burglar, so he judged her and found her wanting.

Unfortunately, the police saw him as the one at complete fault and had him locked up. It was only because he managed to be good that he got out early on parole. But parole meant he had to find a stable job, and not many people liked cons.

Thankfully, the local sex-shop owner, a delightful blonde who had a thing for snakes, did not have such a prejudice against ‘reformed’ criminals, so she hired him.

But yes, he was a non-judgmental person. Which was why, when a short woman with long, silvery hair walked in and went straight to the collar display in the BDSM section, he did not say a word.

Each to their own or whatever the phrase was. Though she did not quite look the type to be into collars and chains, since her clothes were pretty much all frog-themed. However, he had to admit, she was kinda cute. She just had a pretty face.

The woman browed for a while, and Free almost forgot about her, but eventually she approached the counter tentatively carrying six different collars, and, unsurprisingly to him, most were frog-themed. Why they even stocked frog-themed BDSM collars was beyond his, admittedly limited, knowledge.

Silently, he glanced between the collars and the woman, who blushed vividly. He cracked a wide grin.

“Can I see some ID?” he asked. Really, he did not need any ID to sell stuff (unless they looked particularly underage) because he frankly did not care that much, but he wanted to know this woman’s name and she looked like the kind of girl who would refuse if he asked.

She squeaked a little, dropped the collars on the counter and rooted around in her frog-themed handbag. She pulled an also-frog-themed purse, pulled out a driver’s license, and then handed it over.

He pretended to evaluate it, but just looked at her name. Eruka Kikkert, and after a brief glance at her date of birth, he figured she was twenty-three, give or take a few months (his maths was not great, so sue him). He smirked and handed the ID back, then began ringing up the collars.

Just as he scanned the fourth one he said, “Nice shit by the way. You opening up a froggy sex dungeon or something? Kinky.”

Eruka spluttered and flushed brighter. “N-no! I’m using these collars for my pets!”

He laughed and teased, “Beastiality? Man, you are full of surprises!”

She slammed her hand down on the counter. “No! This is the only store that sells frog-themed collars! Do you know how long I’ve looked for collars like those, how many pet shops I’ve been to!?”

He eyed her for a moment, then nodded in respect. “That’s dedication, I’ll give you that. You must really love your pets.”

She seemed to relax at that. “Th-thanks. I guess.”

He snorted. “Card or cash?”

Soon enough she paid—using cash—and he handed her her receipt and bag of collars. Free gave her a large grin as she left, waving goodbye to which she responded with a small, confused wave of her own.

It was only when she got back home though, and went through her bag and the receipt that she realised he had written his phone number on the bottom.

(Against her better judgment, she called him later and they started dating. Then, to her surprise and his joy, they found that collars and chains really were her thing.)


	7. Rat E Reaper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a birthday present for makapedia who is an absolute darling and if you haven’t checked out her fics before you really need to because they are amazing. Happy brithday!

Maka could not believe that her idiot adopted brother had asked for his seventeenth birthday party to be at Chuck E Cheese. Or, rather, the Death City knock-off, Rat E Reaper. How they had not been sued yet was a mystery.

As she walked into the restaurant and got her wrists stamped, along with her brother and a group of their mutual friends, she looked around the place.

By the counter stood the restaurant’s name-sake, the mascot rat dressed up like a comical reaper. Half the room was given over to dining tables—which were all empty save for one, at which sat a couple and their kid, though they spent more time hissing at each other than paying attention to the kid—and the other half was filled with arcade games. The games were the reason Black Star had been so adamant about coming here; dinner with a game he had said.

Maka could remember coming here as a child, when it had been newly opened and extremely popular. But now, nearly a decade later, the place was looking a little worse for wear. She did not even want to know how sticky the place was.

And judging by Kid’s (one of the mutual friends) face, it was not going to be a fun experience.

As they walked away from the employee at the door, a girl with bubble gum coloured hair who was also actually chewing bubble gum, another employee approached them, this time with white hair.

Maka fought to not make a face. What was with this place and weird hair? Though, with her brother’s hair sporting a bright blue, she could hardly make any judgments.

“Black Star’s party, right?” the waiter said, glancing at them all with a raised brow.

“Hell yeah it is!” Black Star exclaimed, startling the waiter a little. “And I’m Black Star!”

The waiter nodded. “All right, I’ll show you guys to your table.”

They followed him to a long table decorated with streamers, skull shaped confetti, and party hats. At the top of the table, there was also a reaper mask and black cape laid out, for the birthday boy as the waiter, who introduced himself as Soul, explained.

“You get pizza with the party, but if you need anything else, just order at the counter,” Soul continued as everyone took their places—Maka and a guy called Kilik next to Black Star, the Thompson sisters next to them, then Kid and a boy called Harvar next to the sisters. “Counters for the arcade are under the hats, you can buy more at the prize counter. Any other questions just ask me, and, uh, have fun?”

Some of the group (Black Star, Kilik, and the younger Thompson sister, Patti) started whooping while the others just eyed the menu. Soul walked off and Black Star donned the cartoonish reaper mask and cape.

Kilik chortled. “Dude, you look ridiculous.”

Black Star snorted. “I look _godly_. Now, I’m gonna go order, then smash some DDR. See you losers in the arcade.” With that he bounded off to the counter, ready to plunder the kitchen for all it was worth.

Soon enough the others followed him, ordering and then spreading out across the arcade games to divide and conquer, or as Black Star put it, win as many tickets as possible to get him the biggest birthday gift ever. Ass.

As Maka made her way through the various games, she kept an eye on Soul as he made his rounds, taking the empty plates from the only other family in the place, and cleaning the tables.

Just as she finished a game of a zombie shot-‘em-up, she caught Soul’s eye. They shared a look, before he turned and went through the door that would lead to the bathrooms. She waited a moment to collect her tickets before following after him.

When she passed through the door, she saw Soul lurking at the end of the corridor, shoulders hunched and hands deep in his pockets.

“So,” she said teasingly. “This is the secret job I couldn’t know about?”

Her secret boyfriend of four months pouted. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“But it’s so funny,” she snickered as she approached him. She pulled one his hands out of his pocket and laced her fingers with him. “Wannabe bad boy Soul Evans working at Rat E Reaper.” Her eyes sparkled and she leaned in close suddenly. “Have you had to wear the costume?”

His face told her everything she needed to know and she burst into peals of laughter, making him pout so more.

“It’s not funny Maka,” he said. “Do you know how grabby kids can get, and how much that suit _stinks_? It’s _awful_.”

“Awww,” she cooed, trying not to giggle. “Poor Soulie—”

She would have said more, but she was interrupted when he growled playfully and pulled her into a crushing bear hug. “So mean to your poor boyfriend. I thought you loved me.”

She squeaked and giggled as he started digging his fingers into her sides. “Noooo, _aha_ , stop it! So _uuulll_.”

He relented but did not let her go, instead he pulled her closer and pecked her cheek chastely a few times. “Yeah, well, be nice to me,” he said lamely. Then he nuzzled into her neck and her knees promptly became weak.

She would have loved to have stayed with him like that, but as she heard her brother crowing loudly from the main room, she was reminded of their situation. There was a reason her relationship with Soul was a secret—several in all honesty.

While Maka, her brother, and their friends went to DC Public High School, Soul went to a private high school. This was because his parents were rather well off and as such, they had certain… _expectations_ about who their sons could date. Soul assured her he did not care, but he would rather avoid the whole drama by keeping their relationship a secret until he could get out from under their thumb.

For Maka, she wanted to keep their relationship a secret because, as he brother and father often told her, she would have to be thirty before she was allowed to date. While she could have been able to deal with all their out-dated bullshit, she did not want to inflict that on Soul.

She had first met the introverted pianist when he had snuck out of his home aged fourteen, and then promptly gotten lost in down-town Death City. After helping him find his way back home, they had swapped phone numbers and started texting each other regularly to vent about how nonsensical their families were. Their friendship had grown and strengthened over the years as Soul snuck out several more times to hang out with her.

Then, four months ago during summer break, while they had watched the Fourth of July fireworks, she had taken a leap of faith and kissed him, which he had eagerly returned. She was very sure now that she was entirely smitten with her albino, dorky musician.

“I should go back out there,” she said softly against his collar bone. “Don’t want them to catch us.”

He sighed, but nodded, though he leaned down to kiss her before letting her go. She pecked his lips once more before turning on her heels and returning to the party.

For the rest of the two hours they were there, Maka kept catching Soul’s eye as he milled about. She thought she had been subtle, she really did, but as the group left Rat E Reaper after paying, she realised how wrong she had been.

“Now, Maka,” Black Star said as he slung an arm around her shoulder. “Sister. Friend. Nerdette. You are my most loyal follower, and so your god will be gracious. I know I always agreed with your old man that you had to wait until you were thirty to date, but I have realised how unfair this is to, dorky and lacking sex appeal or sex _drive_ though you may be.”

She stared at him. “Star, what are you—”

He held up a hand for silence and continued on solemnly. “I saw that you got the hots for our vampire waiter—” Liz and Patti giggled at this but Black Star ignored them “—and I saw that he pretty much has the hots for you too. So, to help you get laid and remove that giant stick from your ass, I left your phone number with the receipt. Your taste is shit but you deserve to be happy.”

As she tried to splutter out some sort of denial he spoke over her, “No need to thank me dearest baby sister! I’m just doing my duty as a godly big brother!”

She finally gave up fighting him and just rubbed a hand over her face.

Later, she got a text from Soul with a picture of the note her brother had left him. It not only had her phone number, but also her bra size, address, and a warning that everyone in the family had at least one black belt in martial arts.

She promptly kicked her brother next time she saw him. _Ass_.


	8. Muses Galore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the lovely s-puff, based on the prompt “I’m a writer and when it gets close to a deadline I neglect taking care of myself so you’ll pop into my house every so often to make sure I’m doing OK”.

When the creative urge seized him, he became consumed by the music. If he was not stopped, he would work till he dropped, either from hunger, exhaustion, or his own lack of hygiene. Thankfully, he had someone there to force him into bed, the shower, and to push food under his nose until he ate it.

When her muse struck her, she forgot that sleep and food were things the body needed. If she did not have someone there to reign her back, she wrote and wrote and _wrote_ until her hands were numb and she passed out at her computer. Thankfully, she did have someone there to remind her of life’s necessities.

While some people thought the musician Soul Evans and the author Maka Albarn were an unlikely duo, they balanced each other out. They understood how much the other’s craft meant to them, and only ever really stepped in when they started to neglect themselves.

It was not like they loved each other or anything. Just concern for their fellow artist and friend.

But this month it was Maka’s turn to be struck by the muse, just in time for a looming deadline. While her inspiration using drove her pretty hard, the deadline only increased the stress she felt. Soul had unfortunately been away at a meeting with a record company across the country about some family collaboration for a Christmas album for the last week, so he missed the beginnings of her downward spiral. It was only when he returned back to the small but fashionably furnished apartment they shared that he knew anything was wrong.

Dishes sat in the sink unwashed. Take-out cartons were beginning to peak out of the trash can. All the windows had blinds over them, like someone had forgotten to open them.

He dropped his stuff in his room before surveying the true extent of the mess in the kitchen. At least the fridge was empty, instead of full of rotting food, like he had left one time, but the stack of unwashed plates extended to the work tops beside the sink. He sighed, then headed to Maka’s room.

There was no response to his initial knock, but he knew she liked to write while listening to music (and trance at that, dear lord) so he merely opened the door.

And there she was, hunched over her computer, fingers tapping away at the keyboard hurriedly. He could hear her music from his place in the doorway and shook his head. He approached and snapped his fingers in front of her face, startling her so badly that she yelled and fell backwards out of her chair.

He tried not to laugh, he really did, but her stunned face was just too comical.

She pulled out her headphones and blinked at him. “Soul? I thought you weren’t getting back till the afternoon?”

He sighed and helped her back up with a hand. “It _is_ the afternoon, nerd. Though at least you know what day it is.”

She snickered a little at the memory of the time he had lost two days to the haze of music.

Once she was back on her feet, he appraised her. “When was the last time you showered?”

Maka flushed a little and looked at her feet guiltily. He shook his head again.

“Go shower then, I’ll drop by the store for some decent food while you wash.” He looked at her washing basket, overflowing with dirty clothes and added, “And maybe you should put a load of laundry while you’re at it.”

He dodged her smack and laughed, darting out to retrieve his wallet before leaving to source some healthy food.

He returned half an hour later with enough groceries to last them till the day after next, and set about making a stew he knew would put her in a sleep coma long enough for her to catch up on any sleep she had missed. Her door was closed when he returned, but the smell of shampoo from the bathroom at least told him she had done as he had told her.

Soon enough the smell of the stew brought her from her room and she relocated to the couch, laptop on her legs as she alternated between tapping away and watching him cook.

“How much more do you have to work on?” Soul asked as he left the pot to bubble for a few minutes, leaning over the couch to observe her working.

Maka had left her damp hair down, and had deep bags under her eyes, but at least now she looked better than she had when he arrived. Showers worked true miracles.

“Just a couple thousand words, then I can start editing this section and send it off to Marie.” She glanced up at him, green eyes under pale lashes, and added, “Sorry for letting myself go like that.”

He snorted and shrugged. “We both know I’m the same. And, hey, that’s what I’m here for. A glorified, underpaid babysitter.”

She pouted, and tried to kick at him, but quickly stopped when her laptop wobbled precariously in her lap. He laughed a little at her expression, before the timer in the kitchen went off and he scurried back to attend his culinary masterpiece (a recipe from his mother that never failed to make you feel good—thank the lord for Italian mothers).

Maka kept working till dinner was served and graciously joined him at the dinner table instead of hiding back in her room, after he had given her a knowing look of course.

After dinner, he managed to talk her into watching a movie with him (“those thousand words can wait till tomorrow, you look like you’re about to keel over, stubborn woman”), cuddled up together on the couch.

She was beginning to doze off, draped over him, when she mumbled, “You’re more than my babysitter, y’know that?”

He huffed a little laugh through his nose and ran a hand through her still damp hair. “I know, nerd,” he whispered back. “We’re best friends.”

“Don’t tell Blake,” she hummed, and nuzzled against his collar bone.

His heart fluttered, but he told himself to cool it.

They were both silent for another few moments before Maka began to mumble again. “More’n best frien’s too.” She moaned in comfortable bliss and shifted a little before she breathed, “Love you.”

He stayed stock still until her breathing evened out and he was sure she was asleep.

“Love you too,” he murmured into her hairline.

When he carried her to bed, after the movie finished, he may or may not have pressed the lightest of kisses to her forehead.

One day, he would be brave enough to tell her how he felt. One day.


End file.
